A Silent Night
by TT-5
Summary: It's Christmas Eve 1940 and a weary young RAF officer is wondering aimlessly through the cold dark streets he's not really sure what he's looking for but somehow it finds him anyway.


December 24, 1940

" _O little town of Bethlehem_

 _How still we see thee lie_

 _Above thy deep and dreamless sleep_

 _The silent stars go by_

 _Yet in thy dark streets shineth…"_

The music filtered out into the dark street where a young man in a leather flying-jacket stood smoking a cigarette. It was cold and he shivered as he stood there, blue RAF cap pulled low over his ears collar turned up, the hand not holding his cigarette deep in his pocket.

" _The hopes and fears of all the years_

 _Are met in thee tonight_ ,"

The song continued and the young man turned his head, a strange feeling taking residence in his chest, one that he couldn't attribute to the smoke or the cold. "The hopes and fears of all the years" felt as if they had suddenly taken up residence in his chest and he coughed rather wetly blinking rapidly against the tears that had gathered in his eyes.

The cigarette fell from his hand as he took a shuddering breath that once again caught in his chest, ' _England is counting on you lads…You know how much the men look up to you…don't let them down...'_ He took another breath, rubbing fiercely at his eyes as he forced himself to think of other things, like the reason he was standing by this small church on Christmas Eve.

He had been given a four hours pass not enough to get even half way home so he was wondering aimlessly through the empty streets trying to quiet his mind enough to sleep.

Sleep was something none of them ever got enough of, one way or another, and though he was exhausted he also had a restless feeling that told him he would spend hours staring at the ceiling even if he went to bed. So he was walking instead, searching for the peace that would allow him a few hours of blissful respite before he was back in the air risking life and limb for England.

" _Oh Come All Ye Faithful_

 _Joyful and triumphant_ "

He felt neither joyful nor triumphant and it had been months since he had been to church but somehow his feet were taking him closer and closer to the church steps.

" _O come ye, O come ye to Bethlehem_

 _Come and behold him,_

 _Born the King of Angels_ "

He hesitated on the top step, one hand on the door handle but before his doubts could drag him away the words of the choir reached him, " _O come, let us adore him_ …" taking a deep breath he opened the door and quietly entered the little church.

The candle lit nave was scarcely brighter than the street outside and fuel shortages and rationing meant it wasn't much warmer but the voices of the choir seemed to make up for all of that. It wasn't a large choir, just little boys like he and his friends had once been. ' _God how many of us are left now…'_

Without warning he began to shake and if not for the quick actions of a gentleman about Dad's age he might have fallen down. Instead a hand gripped his elbow firmly and a kind voice said, "Easy lad you come and sit down now." He had no voice to answer him with so Andrew let himself be led to the closest pew where he sat and clenched his shaking hands together, trying to stop the tremors.

When the song ended he risked a look around and found several people glancing at him curiously. He looked down again, embarrassed, but before he could even think of leaving a warm hand landed on his shoulder and the choir started into the next song.

The Coventry Carol had never been one of Andrew's favourites but the familiarity of the music was reassuring and by the time it ended the worst of the shaking had passed.

He looked at gentleman who had meet him at the door and was now sitting calmly beside him still resting a hand on his shoulder. Andrew managed a weak smile, which the older man returned before removing his hand and turning slightly towards his wife.

Several more traditional carols were sung and for the first time in weeks Andrew felt himself actually relaxing. Instead of seeing the endless trails of smoke crisscrossing the sky, his mind filled was with memories of Christmas' past, when Mum was still alive and Uncle Charles and Auntie Alice would come down from London. When he was still a white-smocked choirboy and the worst thing that he could imagine was being made to take two bathes in one day.

He had been so lost in his memories that he started when the Reverend began to speak and the warm hand descended on his shoulder again, "Easy lad, you're all right" the man beside him murmured and Andrew managed to nod as he forced himself to focus on what the Reverend was saying.

"I invite you to stand and join us in this last song, a song that has become a prayer for many at home and abroad as we all long for a 'silent night.' A night when no guns or bombs shall be heard, when we may all sleep in heavenly _peace_."

The Reverend stepped back from the pulpit, the organ sounded the opening chords and the congregation rose as one. It had been months since Andrew last sang but as the music swelled around him he closed his eyes and began to sing.

" _Silent night, holy night,  
all is calm, all is bright  
round yon virgin mother and child…"_

The couple beside him fell silent, stunned by the beautiful rich voice of the young pilot and even more by the depth of emotion that he was pouring into the words. One by one the rest of the congregation stopped singing and turned to watch the young RAF officer with the angelic voice. Andrew didn't notice, his eyes were closed and all he could hear was the music.

The choirmaster had turned when he heard Andrew's voice soaring effortlessly with the music and by the second stanza Andrew and the choir sang alone. The choir now singing a soft accompaniment to the young man whose voice almost demanded to sing alone.

" _Christ the savior is born,_

 _Christ the savoir is born_!"

Andrew stood silently as the organ died away, unwilling to open his eyes and face the reality that awaited him, a war that showed no sign of ending. The silence stretched for several long minutes and then a warm hand landed on his shoulder and he opened his eyes and realized the whole congregation was staring at him.

He frowned and turned to the man beside him, "Sir?" he asked in a hushed whisper, wondering what he had missed.

The older man smiled reassuringly at him, "Thank you lad, with your voice you've given us a gift we cannot repay you for, a moment of glorious peace in the midst of this awful war."

* * *

Thank you for reading! I wish you all a very happy, healthy and peaceful holiday season!


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